Inns Are For Getting Drunk
by RianneHime
Summary: -ONE-SHOT- Matthew comes across Guy, and decides to share a drink . . . . and to cash in on a few favors. Sneakily, of course. Guy's POV (shounen ai)


Heya! I finally took the time to revamp this fic. Whew, I read through it once and I practically   
died because of the huge amount of errors. So, ta-da! I can confidently say that this is the first   
Matthew/Guy fic ever submitted to the FE section, and -- I am proud to say -- one of the very   
first shounen - ai fics submitted here, too.

Thus, making feel are warm and fuzzy and strangely patriotic . . . sniff . . . paving the way for   
shounen-ai fans everywhere . . .

I am happy to present IAFGD, the way it was meant to be the first time around. But, you know,  
wasn't.

------------------------------------

I slowly took another drink, muttering at the rainfall outside the inn's door. My braid slipped   
over my shoulder, resting on the counter, and I flipped it back behind me irritably. The crashing   
waves in the distance reflected my mood as I glared at the emptied tankard before me.

My birthday . . . . was sucking pretty badly at that moment. Badon, at this time of year, was   
normally a bunch of pirates carousing around and playing drinking games. I'd originally figured   
hey, why not go and have an impromptu celebration? Since, I mean, I wouldn't be turning   
seventeen every day, I deserved a little vacation, right? So, using the small amount of money I'd   
set aside and taking small military jobs along the way, I'd made my way to the port town.

Well, turns out the pirates had decided the same thing, but for their vacation, they up and went   
south before I even got there. While many travellers were staying in town to shelter from the   
storm, the inn was practically empty of drinkers, and it was DULL AS HELL. I couldn't even   
leave until the next day, it was raining so hard. . . . because of course, it just HAD to rain on my   
birthday.

All of this led eventually to me, sitting by myself at the bar, drinking a tepid shot as the barkeep  
lazily wiped at the already spotless counter. After wondering idly if I'd get a free drink for   
mentioning my special occasion, I gave up on any hope that I might have fun and slumped over   
my drink. I swore, at that moment, that it couldn't get any worse. . . .

. . . . Yeah, right.

"Greetings, Guy," An eerily familiar voice whispered right into my ear, tickling the hair by my   
temple. I, of course, had just taken a particularly large drink -- and ended up spewing it out onto  
the counter in surprise and horror . . . . and, to my further shock, recognition.

My braid was tugged on gently in a teasing, friendly manner.

I swiveled in my seat, and took one, long second to take him in. Leaned back carelessly, almost  
viciously piercing smiling eyes, the crooked, almost permanent half grin, the far-too-tight-for-  
my-blood-pressure shirt (I shifted in my seat), and the red cloak, sweeping his calves as he   
stepped back, almost benignly waiting for me to acknowledge him.

Obviously, wasting half my shot all over the bar wasn't enough 'acknowledgement' for him.

"M-Matthew!" I squeaked, before widening my eyes and resisting the urge to bang my head   
(repeatedly) on the counter. Oh, crap . . . did my voice just crack? Didn't it stop doing that   
years ago? As in, when I was twelve, NOT my current advanced age of seventeen?

Matthew's half-smile turned into a full grown grin, and I wondered what he thought was so   
funny, until I reviewed what just happened. After which, I groaned, and DID bang my head,   
repeatedly, on the bar top.

That had happened exactly like after I had joined Eliwood, and very soon after Matthew had   
blackmailed me into joining them . . . . he'd snuck up behind me, and I'd squeaked just as bad   
when he'd whispered exactly so. After which, I'd stupidly challenged him . . .

I suppressed a cough into my sleeve. Er, I'll end that thought there.

I glanced back up at Matthew, and he grinned, noticing my belated acceptance of his presence.   
That grin did strange things to me, like cause my chest to pound and my breth to catch . . .

. . . ok, now is NOT the time to be attracted to Matthew . . . He was straight, I was pretty sure.  
I mean, he and Leila were almost-but-not-quite together when I was traveling with the Lords   
Eliwood and Hector and Lady Lyn. Plus, Leila had gone a died, and everyone knows you can't   
compete with a ghost.

He took a seat next to me (crap crap crap on a STICK) and silently gestured an order to the   
bartender, before turning to my still stunned face and twisting his lips into a wry smile. "What are  
you doing here of all places, hmm?"

"I . . ." I looked at him warily. Matthew was being . . . . well, Matthew was being his normal   
sexy self, and that wasn't a good sign. Not for me, not for my dignity, and certainly not for my   
hormones. "I-I could ask you the same."

The bartender handed him a tankard, and he raised it to me as if in a toast. "Why, Guy," his   
convincing injured voice didn't fool me as he took a large drink, "I'm insulted." He poked my   
shoulder, and I flinched cautiously away. He ignored my reaction as he took another drink, and   
put on his best mischievous look. "You really think I wouldn't come on your birthday?"

. . .Well, THAT certainly got my attention.

"WHAT?!" I yelped, practically falling out of my seat as I jolted my entire body to face him. I   
know I'd complained of boredom, and the smirking bundle of trouble in front of me was a sure   
cure, but this was really too much!

He poured some of his drink into my glass, (I snorted, probably his version of generosity), and   
grinned even more widely then before. "Surprised to see me?"

That was the understatement of the century, because I didn't even know that Matthew KNEW   
my birthday, nevertheless actually cared enough to follow my tracks and find me for it.   
Seriously. . . . I'm a mercenary; I move, alot. How the hell did he find me? He was joking, right?

I gave him a semi blank stare before leaning heavily on the counter and downing my shot in one   
take. Getting drunk was a very, very good option, assuming I could keep my mouth shut while   
tipsy . . . I slammed the glass down, and Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"So you're that happy to see me?" He pulled on my braid again . . . . damn his obsession with   
my hair . . . ."Cheer up, I even got you a gift. . . . er, in a manner of speaking . . . ."

Now THAT was scary . . . . or maybe not. What exactly was Matthew's idea of a gift? Poison   
darts? lockpicks? Or maybe -- my heart leaped -- my oathpaper? I mean, I wasn't too sure . . .  
. and . . . ". . . How the hell did he find me again?"

"Easy," Matthew chirped, fiddling idly with the ties on his cape. I stifled a slight moan; really, I  
hadn't meant to say it aloud. He continued, either oblivious to my discomfort or reveling in it.   
Most likely the reveling.

"I have a spy network, you know," the thief contiued casually, "I just . . . told them to keep an   
eye on you. Make sure you didn't end up half-starved and collapsing on another innocent thief's   
tent." His wink made my cheeks slightly warm, which Matthew, of course, grinned at.

And I already told you what Matthew's grins do to me, right? Yeah.

"Well," he said roguishly, "I can't have you indebted to anyone other than me, of course. I still   
have a few favors to cash in."

I choked. Damn. . . Well, I hadn't really believed Matthew would forget about those, but . . . . I   
reflexably began to protest. Out of habit, really, I didn't actually put anything into it. "You . . .   
.You still hold a grudge?!"

Matthew's face kinda changed as I continued almost frantically. "Were you sent to test me or   
something, like some freakishly annoying angel from God, to see just how far I can be pushed   
before I fall into insanity?" I railed, and even though that was a very, very short complaint (from   
me) I found myself out of breath, and Matthew's eyes just kind of . . . shadowed over.

I frowned, and tilted my head at him. I hadn't actually gotten my point across, had I? Or . . . .   
maybe I'd bruised the impervious Matthew's feelings. . . .?

. . . . Nah. Matthew couldn't possibly feel injured by that . . . . Then again . . . he HAD come all   
this way to see me. And he said he'd gotten me a gift . . . . crap. Now I felt guilt for pretty much  
no reason at all. I'd done the same thing a million times before, and he was probably faking it . . . .

I sighed, and cursing my consciense, turned to the bar. "Hey, another drink for my friend," I   
called out to the barkeep. "My tab."

Matthew's head shot back up at that. Must have been my, er . . . PURELY ACCIDENTAL  
use of the word 'friend.' Seriously, Matthew wasn't exactly best buddy material. He was material  
for every other relationship you could think of (cough cough) . . . . but uh, yeah . . . . Being   
friends with Matthew could prove seriously detrimental to one's health, both physical and   
mental.

"Guy, that doesn't count as a favor, you do realize," Matthew drawled as the drink was   
delivered. I looked at him and put on what I hoped was a decent imitation of his injured look.   
"Matthew! Really, I don't see you all that often --" Praise Elimine for that, my hormones couldn't  
take it -- "Can't I buy you a drink without you being suspicious?"

Matthew . . . . looked suspicious. I . . . . didn't blame him. I mean, despite my thoughts on the   
man (which included 'damn fiend,' 'damn thief' and 'damn SEXY') I really did act like I couldn't   
stand him. Which in the beginnng, I hadn't , but . . . . Matthew grows on you. He certainly grew   
on me. ALOT.

Change of topic is definitely in order.

I shook my head at him. "Look, I-I'm a b-bit desperate for company . . . so I'm . . . . glad   
you're here." I shot him a glance, and added, "Seriously." Weird enough, it was true. I was glad   
Matthew was there . . . . for um, a reason that had everything to with his, uh . . . . personality,   
yeah . . . .

What's with that incredulous look? . . . F-Fine, ok, that was only half the truth . . . But keeping  
him there jst so I could look at his wonderfully muscular self strikes me as a slightly shallow   
reason, so I had to embellish it a bit.

As it was, he was grinning again, and that was bad enough.

He reached over and tugged my braid gently. Normally, I don't like people messing with my   
hair, but when Matthew did it I didn't mind that much. He'd had this weird fascination with my   
hair back during my time fighting with him and the others, and he'd constantly egged me to let it   
down, to see how long it really was. I guess his obsession with my braid was still there, as he   
fingered it lightly.

I hope he didn't notice my blush, that was a rather, ah . . . i-intimate motion he was making back  
there. I grabbed mybraid and yanked it away from him. Matthew shrugged.

"So you've been well?" he inquired idly, turning to sip his drink.

"Yes." I admitted. "I went to Sacae for awhile, but it got boring." I paused, remembering his   
spies keeping an eye on me. "But you knew that."

My newest drinking companion turned to face the wall blankly, as if hiding something very   
poorly. The he turned back, and winked. I rolled my eyes. "That and the horses . . . ."   
Shuddering instinctively, I turned to the questioning thief almost sheepishly, explaining, "I hate   
horses."

He cocked a brow, leaning forward with a twinkle of amusement whirling in his golden amber   
eyes. "What's this?" he mused, "A Sacaean who hates horses?"

I glared at him, and shook my head, which made my braid flop back over my shoulder. I shoved  
it back as I said tensely. "Not all Sacaeans are alike, you know. Look at me, and look at . . . ." I  
fished for a comparison, "Rath," I decided on. "He's so stiff, it's like he's got a rod up his butt," I   
complained good naturedly about my fellow tribesman, knowing he wouldn't mind.

"That might make riding that horse of his difficult," mused Matthew, with a sly glance at me.

"Not to mention painful . . . . " I winced unconsciously.

"Ah." Matthew shared my wince, but didn't miss a beat. "I suppose a change of topic would be   
welcome?" He didn't wait for an answer as he went straight on to a far more interesting topic   
then Rath. "Myself, I've been . . . . around. Making sure everyone is calm, and making sure that   
people remain as ignorant about our war as possible."

I laughed aloud, which startled even me, even if it was a really dry laugh. "Which means that   
everyone knows everything anyway."

"Which makes my job easy," countered Matthew cheerfully, "Since there's nothing to be done."  
He looked at me with an odd smile. "I've been recognized once or twice, since our . . .   
adventures, you know."

I looked at him through the corner of my eye for a moment, and then took a swig from my drink.  
"As a hero or as a thief?"

Matthew sniffed officiously. "You injure me, Guy."

"It happens." I said bluntly, knowing he didn't mean a word, taking another drink. "Anything else  
interesting happen to you?" I offered, gesturing with my free hand.

Shrugging, Matthew took an almost delicate sip. "Not anything out of the ordinary. I think milord  
Hector has a crush on Lady Lyndis." I tried not to choke at that thought - it was pretty funny -   
as Matthew continued. "And you? Anything? Meet any new people, any . . . ." he paused, and  
then to my dismay offered a look that was definitely supposed to be roguish, "Any women?"

Women? I wrinkled my nose. "No. I think I have the weirdest talent of scaring them away in the   
shortest possible amount of time."

Matthew shrugged, and once more reached over to fiddle with my braid. He seemed to like it,  
which was a reason to keep it for sure. It got in the way while fighting, and before Matthew had   
picked me off the roadside I'd been considering cutting it off . . . I wondered if I should let my   
hair down one day. . .

I shook my mind of those thoughts. "Anyway . . . . uh . . . a-any advice on that? Women, I   
mean?" I winced at asking Matthew, of all people, for advice on women. . . . ah, damn, I wasn't   
even INTERESTED in women. Well, not like THAT, anyhow. But, gotta keep pretenses up . . .

Well, it got him to withdraw from my hair at least. "My advice?" Matthew grinned widely. "You  
seriously need to get laid."

I snorted, but then Matthew jerked his face to less then an inch from mine. Really, I wasn't sure  
how to feel about that, my eyes widened in shock and protest, but my hormones were happy as  
hell. "I could help with that, you know," he practically purred, his amber eyes swirling at close   
range.

I gulped, and probably looked scared out of my wits - I was - but, for some odd unexplainable   
reason, didn't move, or even complain.

I was lucky I didn't answer, becausd a second later, he pulled back, laughing. "That was great,"  
he chortled, "You should have seen your face." I blinked tightly, still frozen. He turned to me   
amusedly, "I was joking, you can relax now, Guy."

Joking . . . h-he'd been joking, right . . . while I was busy still blushing at the 'advice' (which I   
would have taken at that moment) Matthew . . . . well, I would say that he giggled, but . . . .

Matthew, giggling?

He'd definitely drunk way too much, I thought, as he cracked up at his own joke. And kept   
laughing. . . . It really wasn't that funny . . . .

Apparently, Matthew could hold his liquor about as well as a sieve.

. . . . He tilted dangerously far back, and I shot out a hand to steady him, splaying it against the   
small of his back and pushing him gently back into place. I blinked at the physical contact, and   
quickly brought my hand back to my drink glass, flushing even worse then before since I was the  
one who'd initiated the touch.

Matthew, seeming to realize his precarious position, slung his arm around my shoulder. I   
stiffened, and his crooked grin turned even more lopsided then usual. "Sooo, Guy . . . ." He said   
with a minor slur I hadn't noticed before, "How about another drink . . . . on you, hmm?" He   
giggled again. My eye twitched.

Shooting an embarrassed look at the bartender, the barkeep nodded and, with a bemused look  
on his face, slid another tankard over. Matthew slung out a hand to catch it as it went by, but it   
missed completely. I caught it by the handle and guided it to his hand, against my better   
judgement.

He finished his drink, rambling on everything from fine wines to Lord Hector's crappy salaries to  
ridiculous use of sword innuendo (most of the latter being variations of my old 'challenges,' AKA  
'My sword will never lose to yours,' etc. etc.), leaving me trying not to burst into a nosebleed.   
And then fell back into the time-honored tradition of drunken battle stories.

"Shoooo, then I went an' took on tha' warrior . . . . by myshelf, shince Lor' Hector was   
injurrred . . . ." He was now saying. I sighed; actually, I'd been in that battle in case he'd   
forgotten, and all Matthew had done was steal the anti-toxin the enemy'd been carrying . . . .

The bartender was now looking extremly amused at the whole thing, the sadistic bastard.   
Matthew, in his drunken state, was all over me, and I was . . . . well, my hormones were having  
a hard time coping with that, to say the least, and his dirty jokes had made me even more   
flustered.

"An' . . . An' you know wha' I did next?" He was leaning heavily on me. I decided that Matthew  
had definitely had enough drinks. I gestured to the bartender.

"Hey," I hissed, "Got a spare room to keep him in for the night?" I lowered my voice even   
further so Matthew couldn't hear, but he was ranting so loudly I didn't need to. "I think he's had  
enough, so . . ." The man, to my horror, shook his head. "Gave you the last room. If you want to  
keep him in yours, though, I won't charge you for double."

I winced. Great, the drunken thief was staying in my room tonight? Would I survive to see   
morning? Would I inplode from repressed hormones?

Matthew was obliviously still ranting. "Yeah, an' Guy, know what I did then?"

He was getting even more frustrating then normal, which was a big deal. I hauled his arm over   
my shoulder more firmly than his prevous, loose placement, and hoisted him up out of his seat.  
He drooped, and I ended up putting my arm around his waist to support him. He was heavier  
than he looked; and my lighter, wiry frame was built for speed, not strength.

"Yes, Matthew, I know what happened." I humored him grimly, beginning the trek to the stairs   
across the floor. I began in my best storytelling voice. "You took up your sword, and dodged   
left as he came at you with his axe." What can I say? If MY talking about him ceased HIS   
talking about him, I was game.

The fact that talking about Matthew wasn't entirely unpleasent had nothing to do with it.

I continued in a soothing voice, hoping he stayed quiet. "You struck, and by mere luck of the   
enemy's, you missed, and barely had time to dodge his second blow." I looked up at the flight of  
stairs I had to climb, and twitched. How the hell was I supposed to get him all the way up   
there!?

"Need help?" the barkeep called, and I shook my head curtly, before dragging Matthew   
forward. "You scanned the battle field, letting your muscles rest before turning back to the . . ." I  
grunted, heaving him around the stairs corner, "Turning back . . . . to the axeman," I panted out.   
I glanced at Matthew briefly. His eyes were shut. "You awake?" I asked softly.

One amber eye, swirling amusedly, opened. "I'm listening . . . wha' next?"

Well, as much as I was enjoying feeding Matthew's drunken ego, there wasn't much else I could  
say. "And then you picked his pocket and ran like hell," I said bluntly, before giving my own   
genuine smile - my first real, true smile of the night.

Did something in Matthew's eyes flicker? I shook my head, saying soothingly, "Come on, my   
room's right there, just a bit more."

"Your room, huh?" he slurred, grinning up at me. "Reaally, Guy, not tha' I mind, but isn't tha'   
going a bit too fast?"

I choked, which Matthew found extremely amusing. "But as I shaid . . . I don't reeeeally mind, if  
that's the moood you're in . . ." he chuckled, and suddenly Matthew stopped holding any of his   
weight at all. I let out a small noise as Matthew collapsed, and dragged me down with him.

"Oof . . ." I grunted, as I landed on something slightly squishy. I squinted my eyes shut, and then   
back open, for a perfect view of Matthew's neck. I blinked. I was on Matthew . . . . uh, wow.

With speed I didn't think a drunk Matthew could possess, he did something that ended up with   
my back slamming on the wooden floor and his arms on either side of me, like some pose from   
the forbidden section of the book store. His right hand was fiddling idly with my braid, as if   
itching to unravel it, and I wondered vaguely at his strange obsession with my hair. I could faintly  
smell the liquor on his breath as he leaned down and purred in an impossibly sexy voice, "I   
reeeeally don't mind . . ."

I think I got a nosebleed when he paused, and with a weird roll of the tongue, added, " . . .   
.Guy." I didn't even know it was POSSIBLE to pack so much raw sensuality in one word,   
nevertheless my name. I wriggled slightly. Was this really . . . . . happening? I realized Matthew   
was waiting for a response.

It took a hell of alot more willpower than it should have to spit out what I did. "Er . . . . M-  
Matthew, y-you're really . . . ." Really sexy? Really hot? " -- r-really drunk . . . . and you'll p-  
probably pass out in l-less than a - "

THUMP. I looked over at him. He had . . . .

Passed out. . . . figures. Here's to hoping he doesn't remember a thing in the morning.

. . . . I wasn't sure whether to be miserable or to be thanking God he was unconscious, but   
either way, I ended up having to pick him up and practically sling him over my shoulder to get   
him to the room. I dumped him on the bed, arranged him so all his limbs were actually on the   
mattress, and then leaned on the comforter, panting with the exertion of my brief labor and the  
the aftershocks of Matthew's . . . . proposal.

I watched him closely, sleeping like the angel he most certainly wasn't. What was WITH him   
and that act on the way up? Didn't he know what he was doing?

. . . knowing him, yes. I didn't get it. Hell, I didn't get him. Wasn't he straight? I mean, that Leila   
chick . . . maybe she was a close friend, or . . . . I'm rebound material or something? He was   
confusing me AGAIN and he wasn't even trying!

The irritating thief was the most . . . . well . . . . irritating person I had ever met. He insisted on   
humiliating me for no reason other than enjoyment. . . . what kind of sick person did that? . . .   
and what kind of sicker person would enjoy, in a bizzarre twisted way, the humiliation? (cough   
ME cough)

I think it was about then that my brain completely and utterly shut off. I was thinking that   
Matthew was in a drunken, stupored sleep and wouldn't wake up until noon tomorrow. I look   
back on it now, of course, and realize that Matthew'd only had three drinks that night. I also   
realize that he'd acted . . . . weird around me, that I myself had drunk considerably more alcohol  
than Matthew had, and was at best, tipsy.

I leaned over, and hesitating about an inch above his face for a few seconds, reveling in his   
heavy and even breath on my mouth. I took in a long, shuddering breath, and touched my lips   
slowly and gently to his. Considering my state of mind, it was annoyingly chaste. I wondered   
vaguely at the roughness of his lips, and why I wasn't turning the moment into a full tonsil-  
inspecting snogging session.

My thoughts were cut off abrubtly as a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me onto the bed. I   
yelped as I hit the mattress, and another hand twined around my other wrist, immobilizing me as  
a knee pinned my stomach down. In a timespan of less then two seconds, I had been effectively  
pinned beneath someone on the bed.

I blinked, and looked up in a dazed shock at the smiling, piercing, amber eyes that were above  
me, opened wider then normal, and very, very much sober. Matthew held that frantic, heavy   
gaze with for a good ten seconds.

Of all the thoughts going through my head, I think my favorite was " . . . Oh, shit."

After voicing that, I struggled madly, squirming beneath him in my effort to get away. His grip   
around my wrists tightened, and his knee pressed on my abdomen in a firm hold. "Stop . . . stop  
that," Matthew said hoarsely - was his voice tense, or was it just me?

He was sounding almost . . . pained when he said it . . . Well, I'd managed to make Matthew   
loose his cool . . . . pity, really, I wouldn't live long enough to brag about it.

I realized then that struggling might not be the greatest idea, as Matthew was in every possible  
position to be taking it the wrong way. I cautiously relaxed, turning my head to the side, avoiding  
his eyes and breathing far, far, far more heavily then I'd have liked.

Not that I didn't have an excuse. Dammit, he was ON TOP of me! As in, his bangs were   
tickling my forehead, his chest was mere inches above mine, and I could feel his equally heavy  
breathing on my cheek, THAT kind of 'on top'.

"What . . . was that?" Matthew sounded positively like a kid, giddy and with a semi-innocent   
tone that said he honestly didn't know what it'd been. Yeah, right. Matthew, innocent? Resisting  
the urge to tell him exactly what it'd been, I squinted my eyes shut, and ignored the feeling of his  
breathing near the corner of my mouth. Or at least, tried to.

"Sacaeans never lie, do they, Guy?" His steadied but still husky voice trailed closer to my ear,   
his breath tickling my skin lightly. His suave demeanor was back, the previous slur was   
completely gone, and I realized . . . . I had been tricked once more by the master thief.

Yeah well, screw him.

Ok, that wasn't the best thought to have at the moment. I shivered as Matthew's lips -- grinning   
widely, I could feel -- pressed to my temple. "So, tell me. . . why did you do that?" He blew   
gently, and I could help but squirm slightly.

"I, uh . . . ." My voice was annoyingly raspy, and I cleared my throat, trying to concentrate on   
what I was saying rather than the knee that was sliding closer to my thigh. "I . . . I-It's your f-  
fault. . ."

He chuckled. "This line of questioning," he said a matter-of-factly, "will get us nowhere. So let   
me ask you something. . ." Right, as if I could stop him. . . . He pressed his mouth to my ear,   
whispering, "Do you want this?"

Sacaeans never lie . . . . I swallowed. " . . . Y-Yes . . ." I choked out before I felt Matthew's lips  
twist into a smile again.

"Anything else . . . " Matthew paused to do something interesting with his tongue, ". . . .you want  
to say?"

"Why . . . . why do YOU get to be on top?" I managed to get out.

I heard the brief chuckle through a haze. "Why, Guy," Matthew nuzzled my ear, "I'm taller."

----------------------------------------------------------------

Yay, first fic! . . . . Well?

crickets

. . . . Oh, come on. Everyone knows that Matthew and Guy are . . . well . . . cough

Still my favorite pairing!


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